


Rooftop Rambling

by Thighkyuu



Category: IkeRev - Fandom, Ikemen Revolution - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: Oliver shows up at the Black Army Base in the middle of the night with a 2 liter of grape fanta and more bendy straws than necessary, all for reader. They climb up on my roof and tell each other secrets





	Rooftop Rambling

One month. That’s how long it took Oliver to plan this evening. **  
**

You were always the one planning the evening, taking him to dinner or just having tea or stargazing, and he hadn’t planned a single thing. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. His current hypothesis was that he was simply too awkward to manage it properly, so when an idea popped into his head for something he could do for you, he lept at the chance to put it to action.

    It wasn’t anything special or elaborate, and he wasn’t even sure if it was _good,_ but it was something, and something was always better than nothing.

    The idea began when you mentioned that your favourite drink was grape Fanta. He had no clue what the hell grape Fanta was, but from the wistfulness of your tone he knew you missed it quite a bit. And, apparently, that Cradle had no equivalent for it. He’d gotten lucky soon after that, discovering that Blanc had a trip planned to the Land of Reason at the next full moon. So he’d done what any self-respecting boyfriend would do. He’d asked Blanc to bring back grape Fanta. And a ridiculous amount of bendy straws.

    Blanc had given Oliver a curious look when he asked, but hadn’t said a word. Presumably because the look on Oliver’s face said something like “one word from you, rabbit-man, and you’re dead.” It was a useful thing for a face to say, in his opinion.

    When Blanc had returned, Oliver immediately began to plan for his venture over to the Black Army headquarters. He knew you would be up late at night - you hadn’t been sleeping well of late, a fact he wanted to attempt to remedy as soon as he could - and so he picked a day and made absolutely sure he wouldn’t have anything to do and that you would be available.

    Before he knew it, he was on his way to the Black Army base, walking up to the front gates. The guards let him in without any trouble - they knew him, and, more importantly, they knew better than to cause him any problems. He approached the doors, knocking politely, he was a gentleman, after all, and waited for a response. It didn’t take too long for one to arrive.

    The doors opened to reveal a bleary-eyed Seth Hyde, clearly yanked from his sleep. Despite the slight bags under his eyes and the air of exhaustion around him, his hair still managed to look absolutely stunning. Oliver made a mental note to demand his secrets later, as his own hair always stood up at odd angles after he slept.

“Oliver,” Seth blinked at him a few times, his eyes, barely focused, darting from his face to the bottle to the box. “Why, exactly, have you woken me up at-” Seth glanced behind him, searching for a clock on the walls. After several seconds of fruitless, tired glances, Oliver volunteered the information.

“Twelve forty seven. A.M.” Seth gave him a withering look.

“-At some _ungodly_  hour.” Oliver merely held up the soda bottle in response. Seth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Oliver bit the inside of his lip to prevent grinning in triumph. Seth was, by far, the hardest of the Black Army to slip by when he wanted to see you, since he saw you as a little sister whose virtue he must protect. “Just. Just come in, I can’t be bothered to even try to figure this,” he gestured to the bottle and box of straws, “out right now.”

    Oliver stepped inside, watching Seth close and lock the door behind him and smirking as Seth gave him one last warning look before disappearing in the direction of his room. Oliver shook his head, chuckling slightly. Normally, it would have annoyed him, but he was too excited to surprise you to be put out by Seth’s antics.

    The thought of you pushed Seth out of his mind, allowing him to refocus on getting to your room. The walk didn’t take him long, and he sighed inwardly as he saw the soft light shining out from under your door. He’d known you’d be awake, but it still saddened him to know you didn’t sleep well, even if his current plan relied on that fact. He knocked lightly, the box of straws rattling a bit as he did.

    It didn’t take you long to open the door, and your entire face lit up as you saw him. Your genuine joy at seeing him never failed to make his heart skip a beat, and a faint pink coloured his cheeks.

“What’re you doing up, numbskull?” He balanced the box of straws on his other arm long enough to push hair out of your face, and you simply stared at him for a moment, likely surprised by the softness of his tone. You blinked a couple times, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to regain your voice.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing up,’ you’re the one who-” You halted mid-sentence as your eyes found the bottle in his hand. “Is that grape Fanta?” Your eyes met his, wide and eager, and he averted his gaze, his blush deepening.

“Maybe.” He froze as your arms wrapped around his waist, startled by the sudden contact, but his tension lasted only a second before he wrapped his freer arm around your shoulders. He could swear everyone in the near vicinity would be able to hear his heartbeat,  but he wasn’t sure he would mind. He wasn’t typically the type for physical affection, but when it came to you he softened up a bit. Just your smile could make him forget how to speak if he wasn’t careful, and he knew it.

    He wouldn’t have it any other way.

    You broke away from him hastily, giddy at the thought of having your favourite drink after so long - it had been nearly six months, after all. You snatched the two liter bottle from him, holding it close to your chest and leaving him holding only the ridiculously large box of bendy straws.

“C'mon,” you’re practically vibrating with excitement as you say the words, “I know the perfect place to drink this.” He rose an eyebrow, but you were already bounding away towards the stairs, so he followed. “It’s better if you have ice,” you glanced back at him, starting up the stairs, “but I can’t be bothered right now!” You began to take steps two at a time, leaving him in the dust.

“Slow down, idiot.” He said, and you paused only long enough to look back and beam at him, then stick out your tongue before continuing up the steps. The word idiot had lost all meaning to you when it came from him. He said it with so much fondness laced in his voice that there could be no doubt that calling you “idiot” as his equivalent of “darling.”

    It wasn’t long before he was following you as you climbed out a window to get on the roof. He watched, slightly nervous, as you climbed up with the Fanta, watching to make sure you didn’t fall. Once you were up, he followed with relative ease, moving to where you were and sitting next to you. He watched as you twisted the cap on the bottle, opening it with eager anticipation.

“Straws,” you say, holding out your hand, your eyes trained on the bottle in front of you. He chuckles, shaking his head a bit as he opens the box of straws and hands two of them to you. You narrow your eyes, looking at the two straws before looking over at him. “Just two? Give me  _at least_  five, you coward.” You grinned as the words left your mouth, and he obligingly pulled out more straws from the box. Four more, to be exact. You shook your head, amused by his handing you one more than asked.

    Normally, he would retort, but he was far too curious about exactly what this drink was and why it required at least five straws. He watched you expertly connect some of the straws, creating even longer straws before dropping them into the two-liter bottle. After depositing the straws, you held the bottle so that it was between you, already leaning over to take a sip. He smirked, leaning over as well.

“After you,” He said, and you glared at him, already drinking the grape Fanta through the straw. He grinned, then took a sip as well.

    The drink itself wasn’t too bad, there were better things, in his opinion, but watching you hum excitedly as you drank it made it better.

“You know what goes good with grape Fanta,” you look over at him, eyes sparkling, “secrets.” You wore the most shit-eating grin he’d ever seen as you said the words, and he laughed softly.

“Oh? You want to hear some secrets, do you?” He tapped your nose lightly, adjusting his sitting position so that his legs were stretched out and his hands were pressed to the roof. He watched as a small shiver wracked your body then, and rose an eyebrow. “You cold?”

“A bit,” you admitted, and then yelped in surprise as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Now,” he muttered, his arm still around you, “where were we?”

“You were going to tell me a secret.” He looked over at you, grinning.

“Once, I stole Blanc’s glasses and replaced them with an exact replica, except the colour was different, to see if he’d notice. He hasn’t.” You giggled, shaking your head.

“I once picked up a stray cat and kept it in my room for a while. My parents never found out.”

“Oh, really? Well I-” The two of you went back and forth, sharing stupid, lighthearted secrets as you finished off the Fanta. As time passed, you both slowly began to run out of things to share, and he was about to suggest going back in to get out of the cold when you piped up.

“I was afraid no one would ever love me until I met you.” You suck in a breath after saying the words, biting your lip. This wasn’t some small, silly secret like the others, this was bigger. More real. A silence stretches between the two of you, and he glanced over to see your eyes trained on the stars. He knew you were making an effort to look anywhere but him, knew that his prolonged silence was likely only making you nervous.

“I didn’t know what love was until I met you.” The words slipped from his lips, and he looked away as your eyes darted over to his face. The silence resumes again, covering the two of you like a blanket. After a moment, he felt your hand slowly moving over his and your fingers fit between his, curling to grip his palm.

    He’s suddenly grateful for the darkness when he feels a blush creep across his cheeks, and he glances over at you. Your eyes are still on the stars as if they’re searching for something, but he knows your thoughts, your heart, are his.

“This,” you whisper, turning to look at him, “is all I could ever ask for.” He let out a small breath, pressing closer to you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he, in turn, rested his head on yours. The cold of the wind didn’t matter, not anymore.

    He could have stayed on that roof with you forever, and he knew you felt the same. He had you, and you him, and that was all either of you needed.


End file.
